


love and duty

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: Sportsfest 2018 [12]
Category: Haikyuu!!, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, News Station AU, Sportsfest 2018, apocalypse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 16:36:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15123518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: "Everyone wants to be with the person they love most right now, don't they?"Akashi's voice is smooth as ever. His presenter voice, the one he puts on for the cameras, the one that’s velvet and opaque and doesn’t let anything through.Kita and Akashi in a news station, thirty seconds before the end of the world.





	love and duty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sportsfest 2018 Bonus Round 1: Time and Place | [originally posted here](https://sportsfest.dreamwidth.org/7464.html?thread=739112#cmt739112)
> 
> the apocalypse is implied/offscreen, but if the implication of major character death all round disconcerts you, please avoid!

It doesn't surprise Shinsuke, somehow, to walk into the station and see Akashi Seijuurou sitting alone behind the news presenters’ desk.

"Akashi. You're here."

The studio is empty tonight. Akashi, whose hands would usually be busy with a sheaf of papers, looks like he is not sure where to put them. It is a strange sight, Akashi not sure of anything, but it passes quickly; he folds them neatly together upon the tabletop and inclines his head at Shinsuke in greeting. "Good evening, Kita-san.”

Shinsuke set down his bag and hangs his jacket up behind the door. "Has everyone else evacuated?"

Akashi nods, then smiles. "I wouldn't call it an evacuation."

"Why not? It's an emergency."

"Yes. I suppose. Well, everyone went home, if that's what you mean. Everyone wants to be with the person they love most right now, don't they?"

Akashi's voice is smooth as ever. His presenter voice, the one he puts on for the cameras, the one that’s velvet and opaque and doesn’t let anything through.

“I see. And what about you, Akashi?"

"The 9 o'clock news must go on.”

"Yes," Shinsuke says. "So it must."

He goes to the pantry. It’s been cleared out by now, and it’s telling what people choose to leave behind; the detritus that makes up the remnants of a life, chipped mugs and teaspoons and instant coffee. All of Akashi’s teacups are still there, a matching set he brought with him from his father’s house, white porcelain with careful maker’s marks. Shinsuke makes two cups of _houjicha_ and waits for them to cool down slightly before he sets them on a tray, tucks his clipboard under his arm and goes to Akashi to brief him as usual.

The studio always seems so small when it's full of people. The camera crew, makeup and wardrobe fussing over Akashi and his co-presenter, interview guests waiting in the wings. But tonight it feels like there's too much space between them, too much space for just the two of them. The walk across the floor to the presenters' desk has never felt so long. Shinsuke has never felt so exposed, with Akashi’s gaze fixed on him as he makes his way over.

There is only one item on the lineup for tonight's news, and Shinsuke doesn't need his notes for it. The cameras are already set and rolling. Two minutes till they go live.

Slowly, he sets the tea and his clipboard face down on the desk, looks at Akashi and finds he has nothing to say. The silence that envelopes the studio isn't dead so much as it is private, the kind of silence people make a habit of keeping secret.

Akashi picks up his cup, murmurs his thanks and takes a sip.

He is immaculate, as always. Even an impending apocalypse has not impinged upon his attention to appearances. No one from wardrobe is in, so his face is bare of makeup and his hair's unstyled, but he can wear a suit as well as anyone and tie a tie with a knot that even Shinsuke can't fault. It is perfectly arranged at his throat, a crimson splash that matches his hair.

Shinsuke leans over anyway, adjusts Akashi’s tie out of habit. They have their rituals, the two of them, and just because the world's ending doesn't mean they have to ditch all proprieties.

Akashi sets down his teacup. As Shinsuke starts to move away, he shifts and looks up into Shinsuke’s eyes, steady and unblinking.

“I didn't evacuate, Kita-san,” he says, "because I knew, of all the producers, you would come."

The breaking in his voice is fine, a subtle, hairline crack no one else would have caught. This is not his camera voice. For a moment, his clasped hands twitch like he might reach up and touch Shinsuke on the wrist, take Shinsuke's hand in his, but Shinsuke's one step ahead of him and his knuckles are already brushing Akashi's face, his eyes downcast as he looks at his watch.

He permits himself this much. He permits them both the warmth that rises to Akashi’s cheek, the luxury of knowing why they’re both here. _The news must go on._

"Thirty seconds to live," Shinsuke says, and steps away.


End file.
